Hermione and the Nature of Evil
by Kikis Moving Castle
Summary: All she ever wanted was to be accepted. With him, she found acceptance and more... (Dark Tomione)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This story will be a slow burn Tomione/Volmione and will feature the corruption of Hermione Granger.**

**This story is a dark Tomione/Volmione.**

**Themes for this story will include: **Manipulation, Murder, (eventual) Underage Sex, (eventual) Oral Sex, (eventual) Non-con, (eventual) BDSM, and (eventual) Corporal Punishment.

**Story will be a SLOWBURN**

* * *

**Friday _20 December 1991 1:30am_**

Hermione scurried through the bookshelves, nervously peering over her shoulder every now and again as she made her way closer and closer to the Restricted Section. _Stop being so paranoid_, she chastised herself, she had been doing this for the last few weeks and knew that no one would be up at this time of night, they never were. And she needed to do this to prove herself to Harry and Ron. They had been somewhat nice to her over the course of the past month, greeting her in the halls and not making fun of her in class anymore. So she tentatively began to help the both of them with their classwork in hopes of engendering a stronger relationship with them. But still she felt uncertain about their friendship, as they had never explicitly told her that she was their friend. So last month when Hagrid let the name Nicolas Flamel slip after Harry's first quidditch match, she _knew_ she had heard the name before somewhere and she was determined to figure it out.

Harry and Ron seemed to be very interested in figuring out what that guard dog was hiding, and having never had friends before now, she felt inclined to prove her worth to them by finding out who he was. It would prove to them just _why_ they should want her as their friend— which is how she found herself creeping around the library _well_ after curfew when she knew she could possibly be caught at any minute by Filch. After all, she wanted to try and get this done before she had to leave the following afternoon for the Christmas holiday.

As soon as Hermione made it into the Restricted Section she immediately began to read through the titles on each of the book's spines. She just knew she had seen the name he was looking for somewhere before...

Nicolas Flamel. Nicolas Flamel...

She trailed her fingers along the spines of the books and she read them; _Magick Moste Evile, Moste Potente Potions, The Codex Gigas, __The Picatrix, Le Grand Grimoire ou Dragon Rouge,_ _The Voynich Manuscript_, _Aldaraia_, _Thet Oera Linda Bok, Forbidden Rites: The Necromancer's Manual.._.

No. None of these books was it. She knew that she had seen the name Nicolas Flamel somewhere and it certainly wasn't because he was tied to any of these dark texts that she kept coming across in this section.

She kept thumbing through the texts and soon came across a black leather-bound book with no name on the spine at all. _That's curious_, she thought as she pulled the book from its place on the shelf. It was a simple black book, with the tiniest glimmer of gold trim around the edges. She opened the book tentatively, curious to see what was inside, only to find the first page blank.

There was nothing on the second page, or the third one either which she found even more curiouser. So she kept flipping and flipping before finally deciding to open the book up to the middle and _still_ there were no words. What in God's name was this book and why in the heck was it in the library if there was nothing inside of it? She thought in frustration before she slammed the book closed. Just as she was about to put the book back in it's place, something on the back of it caught her eye.

**_T. M. Riddle_**, it read in a beautiful gold inscription.

Upon seeing the name written so elegantly on the back, Hermione soon realized that the book wasn't a book at all, but a journal instead. It's a good thing that nobody's written in you, Hermione thought as she began to put the journal back on the shelf. She didn't know what she would do if she ever lost her private journal and someone had the chance to read all the things she had written since she began her classes here at Hogwarts. She would be mortified. Just as she began to walk away, she felt compelled to go back to it. She pulled the journal back off from the shelf and tucked it away into the pocket of the black robe she had worn for this little excursion. She rationalised the move by telling herself that it made the most sense for her to take it with her, since she knew she wouldn't abuse the trust of the person whose diary this was, and she would find the owner and return it to them once the holidays were over.

As she continued to meander through the aisles of books in the Restricted Section, Hermione could feel the journal as it sat heavily in her pocket, weighing it down. She patted it a few times before setting off in search of something anything that might pertain to Nicolas Flamel. Harry wanted to know and she would do anything to make sure he and Ron wanted to continue being her friend.

* * *

**Friday _20 December 1991 11:54am_**

"Bye Harry, bye Ron," Hermione said with a shy smile. She had just gone to retrieve her bag from her room, and was readying herself for the journey back home from school. She tried not to think about the fact that soon she would be heading home on the Hogwarts express while Harry, Ron and his brothers prepared to spend the holiday here at Hogwarts together. She didn't want to obsess over the overwhelming feeling she had that they would forget all about her as they spent all of their time together exploring, once she was gone.

For them, it would be just as it was before they saved her from that mountain troll. She hoped they wouldn't find that they much enjoyed their time together without her interloping and injecting herself where she wasn't wanted or needed. That feeling was only amplified as they continued to ignore her.

"Hey you two," she whinged, "I'm _trying_ to say goodbye and wish you both a happy Holiday, but neither of you are even listening to me."

"Oh," Harry said distractedly, while he and Ron kept glancing across the room and laughing as Ron's twin brothers began playing a game of exploding snap. "Bye Hermione," he said and she turned and looked at Ron as he continued to look over at his brothers.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything?" she added hopefully.

"Sure," Harry said, turning to smile at her before turning his attention back to the twins.

"And maybe you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron absentmindedly.

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione flatly. Did Ron forget that her parents didn't know the first thing about magic?

* * *

**Friday _20 December 1991 6:38pm_**

Her first Christmas back home since finding out she was a witch was awkward, to say the least. It all started on her first night back when her parents began pressing her and asking her about how school was going. Hermione, having bottled most of her feelings up during her first few months at school, couldn't help but to launch into all of her classes and how much all of her teachers loved her.

Her parents seemed pleased at first until they asked her to elaborate on what exactly it was that she was learning in her classes. Their smiling faces began to transform into wariness as she told them about History of Magic, Astronomy, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Once she began to tell them about her potions lesson where she and her classmates made a cure for boils, her mother looked as if she were about to be sick and her father looked ashen and pale as she went into the ingredients for said potion.

Her parents didn't know what to talk with her about, especially since they didn't understand what it was that she was learning in school. For the first time in her life, she felt like a stranger in her own home and she _hated_ it.

* * *

**Wednesday _25 December 1991 7:23am_**

It was Christmas morning and Hermione felt a little bit of the holiday spirit bleed back into her as she made her way down the stairs to start opening up her presents. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw that her parents were already downstairs waiting for her.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione," her mother said with a smile.

"Happy Christmas, mum and dad," Hermione smiled back.

Soon, she was elbows deep in Christmas presents and tried not to feel disappointed when she didn't see anything from Harry or Ron under the tree. She knew she had only gotten them candy as presents, but she had hoped that they would send her something too.

* * *

**Please leave a review and let me know what you all think of the intro to this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Friday _3 January 1992 4:28pm_**

Once she was back in school and away from the fearfully cautious glances of her parents, she could tell that something was different. It was just as she feared, something had happened while she was gone to draw the two boys even closer to one another. She tried to get them to fill her in on what happened, but couldn't get anything more than "Mirror of Erised" out of them. When she started to ask them what it was, the look on their faces— or more specifically Ron's— told her that she should leave it alone. So she did.

"Did either of you at least find out who Nicolas Flamel was?" she asked once they were back in their common room.

"No," Ron responded glumly. "We were kind of hoping you would have."

"You two do realise that I spent the holiday in the muggle world, right?" she asked them in confusion. Where exactly were they expecting her to go in the Muggle world in order to find out who Nicolas Flamel was.

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned. "Why do you _always_ have to ask us questions like you think we're stupid?" He asked in exasperation.

The loud chatter going on in the common room tapered off into silence as everyone's attention moved over to them at Ron's loud outburst, and Hermione sat there awkwardly as she felt the stares of her housemates penetrate her down to the core. It was no different to the stares she once received back in her muggle primary school, except then she was able to get some form of reprieve at the end of the school day when she went home to her parents. She couldn't do that now, not that her parents would be able to offer her much comfort after the way they behaved when she spent the Christmas holiday with them. They looked at her, the same way her housemates were looking at her right now. And in that moment she wanted nothing more than to have the floor open up and swallow her whole right then and there.

She suddenly remembered the journal she had brought home with her for the holiday, and was eager to excuse herself from the embarrassment she was feeling. "Oh, I forgot," she mumbled, standing up from the couch as she spoke, "I need to go to the library to get a book for potions class."

She waited a few moments, hoping for one of them to respond to her, but when neither one of them uttered a word, she turned and hurriedly left Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione made her way down stairs to the library, eager to distract herself from what had just happened while also accomplishing the goal she had set out to achieve before leaving for Christmas break. She didn't even understand why she lied to Harry and Ron about what she was going to go do, but rationalised it to herself as her simply having a desire to keep it quiet that she had gone out in search for who Nicolas Flamel was before she left for break, only to come up empty handed. She patted the pocket of her robes, checking to see if the journal was still there and she couldn't help but smile when she felt the weight of it hanging just near her thigh.

She was certain that the person who owned this journal would be beyond grateful to her for getting it back to them. It didn't take her long to reach the library though— having already familiarised herself with the route there long before Harry and Ron began speaking to her. And once inside, she immediately made her way towards the thick archive of student's names— a complete log of every student that had ever attended Hogwarts since its opening in 990 A.D. Though her plan for today was to simply look through the names of all of the students who had entered Hogwarts over the past several years.

She went through the names of the school's current attendees, starting with the seventh year students and working her way down to the second year students, only to see that none of the students who were currently attending Hogwarts had the name T.M Riddle.

_That's rather interesting_, she thought, as a niggling voice in the back of her head told her to keep looking through the archives. After all, she figured that if she found that journal here in the library then it's owner must have been here at some point in order to leave it behind. And perhaps she could owl it to them with a little note explaining where she found it, she mused as she turned the page and began to search through the names of all of the graduates from the school in the year 1990.

As she thumbed through the pages of previous Hogwarts students, she noticed that the further back she went in the archives, the larger the class of Hogwarts students became. It was as if with each archive she searched through for the previous decades the number of students would double and sometimes even triple in comparison to the current amount of students that were enrolled in the school now. By her own calculations, based on the archive, she estimated the current Hogwarts populace to be about three hundred sixty four students— with thirteen of those students being in her first year Gryffindor class.

_This is starting to become tiring_, Hermione thought, just as she finished reading the page in the archive that held the names of the graduating class for 1946— and still there was no sight of anyone bearing a name with the initials T.M or having the last name Riddle. She ran a hand down her face before checking the wrist watch her father had gotten her for Christmas and realised that she had been searching for that name for almost three hours. She felt somewhat disappointed that neither Harry nor Ron had come to search for her after seeing that she had been gone this long and dinner would be starting soon, if it hadn't already. _Just one more page_, she told herself sadly, deciding that she would just come back and continue searching tomorrow after breakfast.

She turned the page, fully expecting to be let down once again as she began to slowly trail her eyes down each individual name. _This one is a wash too_, she thought to herself in frustration, before she finally came across a name that seemed to be the most promising. She touched the calligraphic script on the parchment and read it quietly to herself a few more times before she felt confident that she had found the right person.

**_Tom M. Riddle_**, it read and just beside his name sat the words: Head Boy for the Class of 1945.

* * *

**Sunday _5 January 1992 11:43am_**

Hermione had written and rewritten her letter to Mr Riddle multiple times, since she discovered the name of the journal's owner back on Friday. All in the hopes of trying _not_ to sound like a small child to this sixty five year old wizard. She desperately wanted to come off as a mature and insightful young adult, and not the twelve year old girl that she actually was. Tom Riddle, she had discovered, was a muggle name— meaning that he had to be either a half blood like Harry or a muggleborn like her. And if he was a muggleborn that made his appointment to Head Boy even more impressive to her. _He must have been terribly smart if he was able to outperform his wizarding peers in order to reach that position, _Hermione thought, feeling inspired by him. She too wanted to be Head student when she reached her final year at Hogwarts, and seeing that another wizard with a muggle background had achieved it forty seven years ago, when blood prejudice was more likely to be far more prevalent than it was today, gave her an insurmountable hope that she could achieve that dream.

_Dear Mr Riddle,_

_My name is Hermione Granger and I'm currently a student at Hogwarts. Now I'm sure you're wondering why I decided to pen this letter to you, and to put it quite simply sir, I'm writing to you because I found something of yours that I think you might like to have back. I don't know if you were aware of this or not, but you seem to have misplaced a journal of yours here and considering the fact that you finished your education here some time ago, I would assume that that's when you left it behind. I found it stuck between a few books in the library and with my own personal journal in mind, decided to post this back to you as soon as I feasibly could. I hope this letter finds you well sir, and I also hope you have a blessed day._

_Sincerely,_

_H. J. Granger._

She reread her letter one more final time before attaching it to the journal and heading up to the owlery. She had never used an owl to send anything before and today would be her first time giving it a shot. She called one of the owls down to her, and it flew down to her easily enough, but when she went to attach the journal and letter to it's leg, the owl recoiled away from her and flew back into the flock of other owls.

She called to another owl, summoning it down to where she stood in the owlery, only to yield the same result.

I'll come back and try again later, Hermione thought in frustration, stuffing the journal as well as the note that she had written, deep into her robe pocket.

* * *

**Sunday _5 January 1992 12:13pm_**

"Hey Neville," Hermione said once she got back to the Gryffindor common room. "Where are Harry and Ron?" She asked after looking around the common room and seeing that they had gone.

"They went down to go see Hagrid." Neville told her nervously.

She lifted a brow as she looked at him, taking in his apprehensive face before responding. "Alright," she said hesitantly, "I guess I'll head down there and meet them."

At that comment, his face flushed and he looked down at the floor. "They uhh..." he stammered before clearing his throat, "Well they kind of said that they wanted to do it while you were gone."

"Oh," was the only response she could come up with before she caught herself. "I'll just see them later on at dinner then." she said, hoping she didn't sound as sad as she felt in that moment.

Neville opened his mouth to speak, but slammed it shut before he could utter another word and watched Hermione as she turned away from him and began walking up the stairs to her dorm.

* * *

**Sunday _5 January 1992 10:57pm_**

Dinner had ended a couple of hours ago, and Harry and Ron still hadn't spoken to her yet. She had been hoping that she hadn't ruined their friendship before it could even begin. She ate alone, sitting at the edge of Gryffindor's table and picking at her food as she watched Harry and Ron laugh and joke with their housemates. They completely ignored her, acting as if she was not even there. Even when they returned to Gryffindor tower, Harry and Ron still remained cold and aloof. She didn't know what she had done to make them ostracise her like this, but it hurt like nothing she had ever felt before.

Hermione watched in silence as her roommates sat together on Lavender Brown's bed, giggling and whispering with one another. Not a single thought spared for the curly headed roommate they were leaving out as she sat alone across the room from them. So she climbed out of bed and pulled on her dressing robe before making her way to the stairs which led down to the common room. She was hoping to slip out of the Tower unnoticed and make her way down to the library in order to distract herself, but halted on the steps as Ron's voice flitted up from the common room towards her.

"Good save with Hermione earlier Neville," Ron said, and Hermione inched her way down the stairwell just enough to catch him tossing a paper ball at the boy who sat in the armchair across from him.

She watched as Neville's lips twitched up in a weak smile at Ron's praise.

"Thanks, Ron..." he said nervously, digging in his pocket and pulling out a chocolate frog.

"I mean, we tried to be her friend, but I can't be friends with a know-it-all chit that talks to me like I'm denser than tree bark." Ron continued, looking back and forth between Harry and Neville with a serious expression on his face. "We've done our due diligence by going after her when she got herself trapped by that mountain troll. We risked our necks and our spots as students here, just to help her. That should more than make up for me making one off handed comment that made her cry, even though what I said was true."

Hermione bit her lip as she listened, her eyes filling up with tears as she heard Ron tear into her.

"I think I'll go to bed..." she heard Neville say after a while. "Harry d'you want the card," he asked, gesturing to the chocolate frog he had opened. "You collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever-"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here - listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

"See Harry," Ron said, clapping the messy haired boy on the back excitedly. "Told you we didn't need Hermione to figure out who Nicolas Flamel was! She might be smart, but you're the chosen one! I knew it would come to you soon enough! Now all we need to do is find out what Dumbledore could be hiding for him."

"Yeah!" Harry grinned, looking over at Ron. "Let's go to the library tomorrow instead of lunch and check out every book we can find on dragon's blood and alchemy."

"Be sure to bring your cloak, just in case she's there," Ron groaned. "I don't want her to see us there and try to join us."

"Got ya," Harry laughed. "One invisibility cloak coming right up."

An indescribable feeling began to well up in her body as she watched the boys get up and make their way up the stairs towards their dorm. Pulling her robe tighter around her body, she quickly finished descending the stairs and slipped from the common room. She was still going to the library, but not to distract herself.

She was going to grab each and every book she could find on dragon's blood and alchemy and bring them back to her dorm to store in her trunk. She was going to figure out what that three headed dog was guarding, and she was going to get to it before either one of those idiots could figure out just what Nicolas Flamel was famous for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Friday _31 January 1992 11:32pm_**

Funnily enough, she found the answers she had been searching for, in a book that she had already taken from the library weeks before Harry and Ron cast her aside. How ironic was that? She thought, rereading the passage about Nicolas Flamel once more from the aged tome as she sat with it on her bed.

_"The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)."_

It's the stone, Hermione realised after going over the passage again. Out of all of the wondrous things Nicolas Flamel managed to create over the span of his unusually long life, the Philosopher's stone was the only thing he made that would be small enough to be smuggled out of Gringotts in what Harry described as a "grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper". And now Dumbledore was hiding the stone for Nicolas Flamel, and those idiots wanted to steal it because they stupidly believed that Professor Snape was going to try and steal it first.

Professor Snape might've been the meanest, nastiest teacher she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting, but he was _still_ a teacher for God's sake. He was clearly someone who Professor Dumbledore thought highly enough of to hire. So why in heaven's name would he want to risk termination and imprisonment for stealing something that was being protected by his employer. It just made no sense to her. Though now that she knew what was being hidden, she too found herself at a crossroads in regard to how to handle all of this. Did she follow through with her initial plan to go and get the stone before they could, or did she take this to someone with more authority over all of this like Professor Dumbledore. She desperately wanted to make the two boys look like the true idiots that they both were, but she didn't want her vengeance to get her into trouble.

She would tell Professor Dumbledore, Hermione decided. He would be far more equipped to handle this situation than she was, and besides the stone was left in his care for a reason. She would go to him tomorrow and reveal Harry and Ron's plan to snatch it, and she honestly couldn't wait to see the trouble they would get into when she did.

* * *

**Saturday _1 February 1992 9:37pm_**

Hermione ate dinner alone, something that was quite usual for her now these days. She quickly devoured her Shepard's pie and drained her glass of pumpkin juice before she hurriedly left the Great Hall in search of Professor Dumbledore. She hadn't seen him at all over the course of the day and figured she could probably find him in his office, so she decided to start making her way there. Just as she was readying herself to turn the corner to the hall where his office was located, she heard the low drawl of her potions Professor and halted on the spot.

She might not have believed that he would snatch the Philosopher's stone, but the man had a penchant for nitpicking problems when it came down to Gryffindor students and she didn't want to lose anymore house points.

_"What goal are you hoping to achieve here?" _the man drawled to his companion, a man who upon hearing his voice, she realized was the very same man she had been initially looking for— the headmaster. _"First the mountain troll, then the hexed broom stick, are you trying to get one of these students killed?"_

The elder man laughed in response before softly speaking,_ "I merely want to see how the boy reacts to highly stressful situations," _he said,_ "Think of it as a controlled experiment, Severus. He'll never be in any real danger, and it'll give him the chance to feel like a hero."_

_"No real danger?" _her potions Professor scoffed._ "You've let the Dark Lord onto school grounds for Merlin's sake, and you call that a 'controlled experiment'? You do know that the only thing he wants more than the stone is to see that Potter boy dead, correct? And that he very well almost achieved that desire at that quidditch match.__"_

_"He was completely fine, Severus." _the headmaster said in a dismissive tone,_ "but please, if you must insist on having this conversation, it would be best to continue it in my office. I find myself in need of a cup of tea."_

Hermione stood there for a moment, trying to take in everything she had just overheard. Evidently Professor Dumbledore knew for certain that there was someone in the school who wanted to get to the stone. Someone who went around calling himself 'The Dark Lord', and as if the name alone wasn't foreboding enough, this person apparently wanted to _kill_ Harry as well. For the life of her, she couldn't fathom why Professor Dumbledore would let someone like that into the school _knowing_ that they wanted to murder one of the students. And what did he mean when he said he was only doing it to see how Harry handled being in highly stressful situations?

What the hell was going on here? Hermione thought as she turned around and made her way back to Gryffindor tower. She went looking for Dumbledore to tell him about what those two idiot boys were planning and instead left without even speaking to him and now she had even more questions than she initially started off with.

She headed straight for the stairs leading up to the girl's dorms as soon as she reached the tower. She walked past a few of her chattering housemates as they sat around loudly discussing their days, and vaguely noticed Harry, Ron, and Neville huddled up in a dark corner whispering to one another. No doubt they were discussing their "Nicolas Flamel problem", she thought with a small smirk. They had hit another wall in their discovery as Hermione had already commandeered every single book pertaining to alchemy and dragon's blood from the library. Essentially leaving the boys right back at square one since they couldn't find out anything else beyond what they had already seen on the back of Dumbledore's chocolate frog card.

It also seemed as if they had decided to replace her in their sad little group with Neville, and she didn't know whether she should laugh or be angry that they preferred Neville's company to her own. As she walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind, happy to see that none of her roommates were there. She made her way over to her desk and pulled out her journal. Tearing out a sheet of the lined paper to write on, she grabbed a quill and began to lay out all the facts as she knew them.

\- _Nicolas Flamel is the creator of the Philosopher's stone._

\- _Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel are friends._

\- _Professor Dumbledore sent Hagrid to go and collect the Philosopher's stone on the same day that he took Harry to get his supplies._

\- _Professor Dumbledore hid the stone somewhere in the school._

\- _Professor Dumbledore knew that there was someone after the stone and let them into the school anyway._

\- _Professor Dumbledore is also aware of the fact that whoever it is that is after the stone has been putting student's lives at risk. e.g. releasing a mountain troll inside of the school and cursing a student's broomstick._

\- _Professor Dumbledore knew all of this and called it all a "controlled experiment", one he was using to 'test' Harry on how he handled highly stressful situations._

She placed her quill down to look at what she had written so far. Many of the points she had written down, left her with more questions than answers. Like was all of this supposed to be a test for Harry or was it all something that Dumbledore designed in order to help Harry see himself as a hero, as he had vaguely hinted to earlier? The fact that Hagrid had been the one to introduce him to the wizarding world, made that idea seem all the more plausible to her. The more she thought about it, the more sense it began to make to her.

It was blatantly obvious to her that Hagrid couldn't keep a secret to save his own life, the man was about as inconspicuous as a bull in a china shop, and _still_ Dumbledore sent him to go and perform these tasks for him. Why would he do that unless he _wanted_ to pique Harry's curiosity on what Hagrid was collecting for him? Surely Professor McGonagall would've been the best person for the job as she was the most responsible teacher outside of Professor Flitwick, and she also had the added bonus of being the head of Gryffindor house. So why wouldn't he entrust her to go and perform these tasks.

She heard a noise at the door to her room and immediately balled the list up in her hand as she hurriedly moved to shove her journal back into the drawer she had taken it from. The last thing that she wanted was for those nosy little chits she shared a room with to see her writing in her journal. She turned around, quietly trying to assess who had just come into the room, only to meet the curious eyes of all of her roommates as their eyes were trained on her.

* * *

**Sunday _2 February 1992 9:42am_**

After the awkwardness between she and her roommates the previous night, Hermione decided to sleep in a bit the next day and take advantage of her final day of the weekend. She sat up and stretched, lifting her hands high above her head as she wiggled her fingers and toes. She looked around her room, and noticed that she was all alone. Which made her morning ten times better in her opinion. Fishing around beneath her pillow she pulled out her balled up note and swung her legs around to jump out of bed. It was when she stood up, that she finally noticed that something was off. Her school trunk which usually sat at the foot of her bed, had been dragged into the middle of the floor and opened and articles of her clothing had been strewn about and lay scattered on the floor.

She approached the trunk slowly, wondering who could've possibly done this to her when she noticed that all the books she had taken from the library the other night about Alchemy and the uses of Dragon's blood were missing. Who on earth would take those books from her? She thought angrily. All of her roommates were dimwitted airheads as far as she knew, so it couldn't have been any of them... unless... Did Harry and Ron put them up to this? After all, it was no secret that she was the social outcast in her house, and that Harry was the resident celebrity with Ron firmly solidifying his place at Harry's side as his 'best friend'. So if he or Harry _had_ asked one of them to check her things for those books she had taken from the library, she honestly couldn't see any of the girls she shared a room with, turning them down.

She could remember those late nights where she would sneak out of the dorm, _just_ to search for information that she thought would be useful to Harry in his search to discover who Nicolas Flamel was, all because she wanted him to see the value of her friendship. She broke school rules for him all because she thought he would appreciate her more for it. So what made those other girls any different from her? She was certain that each of them felt exactly the same as she did when it came to soliciting Harry's friendship. But to steal from her of all things. That crossed a boundary that no one could come back from as far as Hermione was concerned.

She turned to take stock of the rest of her belongings, only to feel her heart freeze right in her chest. Her desk... someone had been in her desk. The drawers were wide open and there were papers scattered all over the place. Please tell me they didn't take it, she thought as she ran over to the mess and began looking through her scattered belongings. She checked the floor first, flipping over papers and books she had brought from home at the start of the school year. Moving over to the desk, her stomach began to fill itself with dread as she took a peak inside each of the drawers. It was gone! Her journal had been stolen with those books from the library.

She felt panic beginning to well up inside of her as her breaths began to become short and airy. Who would take her journal? she thought angrily, her eyes growing misty with un-shed tears. It just wasn't right! Her journal was _hers._ A place where she could keep all of her personal thoughts and feelings, without fear of scorn or judgement. And now who ever had it, was privy to every little thing she had ever written inside of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Sorry for the delay. I experienced a technical issue, where this chapter was corrupted and wouldn't open, meaning I had to rewrite it in it's entirety. I hope none of you are too upset with the week long wait.**

**I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts with me.**

* * *

**Monday _3 February 1992 6:27am_**

Hermione woke up with a ball of nervous energy sitting deep in the pit of her stomach as she moved to climb out of her bed. She felt angry, tired, and awfully sluggish after deciding to forego all of the meal times in the Great Hall the day prior, in favour of staying in her room to clean and organize all of her scattered belongings. So clean she did; she folded, sorted, organised and categorized everything that had been tossed about, and did so the muggle way in order to try and ascertain just how many of her things had been stolen.

To her never-ending relief, she found Tom Riddle's journal still perfectly hidden within the safety of the pocket of her school robe. She also found the large old tome that held the information which connected Nicolas Flamel to the Philosopher's stone— hidden far beneath her bed, and Hermione couldn't help but to thank God that she hadn't had the thought to hide it with the other books in her trunk.

Ultimately she made the decision to return the book to the library, but not before doing something to it that made her feel ill even now just thinking about it— she had torn out the page which held the information about the Philosopher's stone and stuffed it into her pocket right alongside Tom Riddle's journal.

After she was finished getting ready for class, she peeked out into the hall before creeping stealthily from her room and out of Gryffindor tower. Her robe pocket felt heavy as she walked, weighed down with the weight of the journal, as she made her way down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. She wanted to be in and out of there long before her housemates even began to start making their way down to start their days as well. She didn't want to look at any of their faces, wondering if they had been apart of the theft on her belongings, or if they knew the person who had. However, it didn't take Hermione long to discover just who it was that had possession of her journal, because they seemed to want to make themselves known almost as soon as she showed her face that morning. She had just exited the Grand staircase when she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. She ignored it and continued to walk. Surely whoever it was making that noise, _wasn't_ doing so in an attempt to try and catch _her_ attention.

"I bet you think you're so smart. Don't you Granger?" she heard someone say from behind her in a rather familiar-sounding voice.

Slowly, Hermione turned around and came face to face with the boy who was swiftly becoming the bane of her existence, Ronald Weasley.

"What are you even talking about, Weasley?" she asked him angrily. She had no desire whatsoever to see his freckled face right now.

"I'm talking about the fact that you hid all of those books in your trunk just to keep me and Harry from finding out about Nicolas Flamel," he folded his arms across his chest, looking every inch the petulant child he clearly already was.

"I still have no idea what you're talking about," she lied, watching his face closely for any hints that he had been the one to orchestrate the theft of her belongings.

"Oh really? You don't?" he sneered at her.

"_Dear Diary_," he began with a smirk on his face and a singsong quality to his voice, "_You'll never believe what happened to me today! Today I FINALLY found out why I'm so different from the other kids in my neighbourhood. It's because I'm a witch! A woman came to my house today and told me so! She told me that I'm not a freak at all, but a witch! Can you believe that! I'm a witch!..._"

"I-It _was_ you," she stammered. "You're the one who stole my journal."

She expected him to deny her accusation, or in the very least have the heart to admit to have done it. What she didn't expect, however, were the deep peels of laughter that began to bubble up from his throat in response to what she said. He laughed and laughed and he laughed some more until Hermione was almost certain that he would piss himself at any moment if he didn't stop laughing soon. A sick part of her almost hoped that he would so he would be the one who was embarrassed right now instead of her.

"I thought you were supposed to be smart, Granger," he said between bursts of laughter, "Boys can't even go inside of the girl's dorms, the stairs are charmed against it." He told her, sniggering to himself a bit as he spoke. "So _I_ couldn't have possibly been the person who stole your stupid little journal."

"Okay, so you got one of my idiot roommates to do it for you, it honestly makes no difference to me. All I know is that you're the person that has my journal now. So now that you've had your little fun, give it back to me." she growled angrily, she was done playing with this foolish boy.

"Fine, I'll give you your stupid little journal back," he said looking thoughtful, "But first I want you to tell me what you found out about Nicolas Flamel before I do."

"What makes you think I know anything about him?" she lied.

"Because you've had those bleeding books stored in your trunk for only Merlin knows how long," he snarked back.

"Fine, that's fair, I suppose," she sighed, readying herself to tell him about the Philosopher's stone before she began to think better of it. It was obvious to her that for whatever reason Ronald Weasley did _not_ like her, and not only that but he had also not given her any reason to believe that she could trust him. In fact, he had given her every reason in the world to believe that she couldn't trust him at all. He had, after all, persuaded someone to break into her things and steal them for him for God's sake.

"Well...?"

"Professor Dumbledore is hiding a piece of cinnabar for Nicolas Flamel," she lied, making sure to keep her face neutral and her voice even as she told him about the bright red mineral, "And before you ask me, _no_ I do _not_ know why Professor Dumbledore is hiding this item for him, and quite frankly at this point I no longer care. Now, give me back my journal." she demanded, holding her hand out expectantly to the boy.

Hermione's heart beat frantically in her chest as she watched Ronald stare silently down at her hand, waiting to see if he believed her.

As soon as his eyes moved back up to meet her's, she knew she wouldn't be getting her journal back from him today or any time soon.

"No. I think I'll be holding onto your journal for a little while longer," he said with a smirk, "Who knows when I might need more information from you?"

"You can't!" she yelled, stomping her foot as her eyes filled with angry tears.

"I _can_, and I _will_," he told her, looking at her as if he enjoyed seeing her this upset at his doing. He looked her up and down for a second, before chuckling a bit to himself. "Yeah, not so smart anymore, huh Granger?"

She watched him as he walked away, rage boiling away at her insides until she felt as if she were going to be sick because of it.

* * *

**Monday _3 February 1992 5:23pm_**

Hermione had the curtains pulled tight around the sides of her four-poster bed, effectively cutting herself off from the outside world. After her run-in with Ron Weasley earlier that morning, she had no desire to see him or anyone else in her house, and so she made the decision to turn around and make her way back to Gryffindor tower. She figured her bedroom would be the safest place for her to hide out at, as she didn't want to run the risk of experiencing an encore performance of being trapped in the girl's room with another mountain troll ready to bludgeon her to death.

As she arrived back at the portrait of the fat lady who guarded the entrance to Gryffindor tower, she couldn't help but notice how the portrait stared down at her reproachfully before finally swinging open and letting Hermione back inside of the common room. Truth be told she honestly couldn't care less about the disapproving attitude of a stupid bloody portrait._ What does she know? _Hermione thought angrily_,__ She's just a portrait,__ and besides what was one day of missing classes_? It wasn't as if she weren't already ridiculously far ahead of her peers. One missed day of school work wouldn't be enough to mess with her top rank among the rest of them.

She stared up at the canopy above her bed for an indeterminable amount of time as she went over everything she knew in her mind. She had been thinking about this for a while and it finally began to feel as though certain pieces were starting to fit together. Professor Dumbledore was hiding the Philosopher's stone somewhere in the third floor corridor of the school, all in hopes of creating some sort of an adventure for Harry Potter to make himself feel like some sort of a hero.

**_"First the mountain troll, then the hexed broomstick, are you trying to get one of these students killed?" _**She heard Professor Snape's voice say in the back of her mind.

Her life had been put in danger all to make Harry Potter feel like a hero. She thought about how she had been hauled up inside of that bathroom that awful Halloween night, crying her eyes out when that enormous mountain troll came lumbering in.

**_"I merely want to see how the boy reacts to highly stressful situations," _**she remembered Professor Dumbledore saying in response. **_"Think of it as a controlled experiment."_**

_A controlled experiement..._ She thought about how heartbroken she had felt when Ronald Weasley had made fun of the fact that she didn't have any friends and how she had run into that bathroom desperate to try and hide the way how his words affected her. How they still affected her even now today. She also thought about how quickly she tried to tamp down those feelings once she saw Harry sweep into the room with Ron in tow, and save her from that troll. She could admit that when it all happened, she did indeed see him as her hero, so she could only imagine how he felt about it all after he had saved her. Was that all a part of Professor Dumbledore's plan for Harry's "heroic adventure"? Something to hearten him and encourage him to want to help even more people.

**_"He'll never be in any real danger, and it'll give him the chance to feel like a hero."_**

Professor Dumbledore had never mentioned anything about _her_ safety, only Harry's. Which begged the question of whether or not she would be picked as a target again to prompt Harry's heroic attitude. She wondered why this attitude was something Professor Dumbledore seemed to want to cultivate. And what did all of this mean for her? She tapped her fingers against the quilt on her bed as she thought desperate for her usual means of releasing pent up frustration, her journal. She wished like hell that she had it back in her possession, if only just to help her get all of her thoughts and bottled-up frustration out of her system.

Just as that thought passed through her mind, she suddenly began to feel a pulsing sensation right up against her thigh. It felt almost like a heartbeat with the steady thrum it emitted, and the feeling alone was enough to snatch Hermione out of her reverie, and almost had her sprawled out on the floor in an attempt to get away from it. _What the hell_? Hermione thought as she dug inside of her pocket, but the moment her hand came in contact with the lining inside, the pulsing stopped. She emptied her pocket of everything it had within it and stared dumbly down at the three items as they laid out on the bed before her. Her eyes moved quickly over the leather-bound journal, the note she had written Saturday evening, and the torn book page, as she tried to decipher which one of these items had been causing the rhythmic throbbing she had just felt against her skin.

She felt drawn to the journal, touching it gingerly with the tips of her fingers, as she lightly traced them over the leather. Slowly, a thought began to snake its way deep into her brain. She wondered if she should even return the journal to its owner at all at this point. _It's not like he ever wrote in it_, she thought as she stared down at it. _And besides, if he truly missed his journal, surely he would've come back for it long before now, _she thought_. After all, he **did** leave his journal here in the library almost fifty years ago_. She opened the journal, trailing the tip of her pointer finger down one of the bound sheets of parchment. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leant off the edge of her bed to reach down into her satchel bag and pull out a quill and an ink-pot.

She dipped her quill into the ink-pot and hesitantly held it over the first page and accidentally dropped a bit onto the first page of the diary. The ink shone brightly on the paper for a moment and then, almost as if it was being sucked into the page, the spill vanished. That's incredible Hermione thought as she stared down at the journal, quill still poised to write in her hand. _Maybe this is why the journal appeared to be empty_, she thought, _it's because the paper inside of it absorbs ink and renders it invisible_. Her curiosity was piqued, what charm had been applied to it in order to make this happen she wondered as she went to load her quill up with ink a second time and began to write;

**_Dear Diary, _**

**_My name is Hermione Granger. I know this journal doesn't belong to me and I tried returning it to its rightful owner, but to my utter frustration, I find that I can't. Owls, for some strange reason, wont allow me to attach it to their legs in order to send it off. And right now I really need someone to talk to, so I guess I'll talk to you. Today has been positively dreadful and now I think I might actually hate someone more than ever before. Perhaps even more than Phillip Belkby, the wretched little toerag who used to bully me back in primary school. Yeah.. Ronald Weasley is definitely far worse than Phillip, because at least Phillip knew not to tamper with my belongings. A lesson Ronald Weasley needs to learn fast and soon. I have no idea why that insolent little pig of a boy doesn't like me, but if he doesn't leave me alone soon, he'll end up just like Phillip did on my last day of class._**

She paused, thinking about how her former school bully was now blind in his right eye, after their last encounter with one another. Shaking her head, she turned and dipped her quill back into the ink-pot, and could see from the corner of her eye as the words she had written began to shine momentarily on the page before finally sinking down into the page without a trace. She turned her head and stared at the journal flabbergasted. And then, much to her surprise, something began to happen. Oozing back out of the page, with its very own ink, came words Hermione had _not _written.

"**_Hello, Hermione, I'm sorry to hear that you had such a bad day. My name is Tom Riddle. If it's not too much, I was wondering if you could tell me how you came to be in possession of my diary?_**"


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: This chapter is filler, but I still hope you all enjoy it. Also I want to thank every single one of you who left me a review. I greatly appreciate all of you taking the time to come and read my story.**

* * *

**Tuesday _4 February 1992 8:23am_**

Hermione woke up that morning with a smile on her face, a smile so bright that it could rival that of her favourite actress Julia Robert's, and a skip to her step that made her feel as though she were walking on air. She even sang in the shower for the first time in months, something that she hadn't had the heart to do since the summer of the previous year. She stood under the warm spray of water, belting out the chorus to Dannii Minogue's _Jump to the Beat. _

She felt entirely refreshed almost as if a giant load had just been removed from her shoulders, and she was finally free from the dread of being alone. And she had Tom to thank for it. She remembered the talk that she had shared with him the night before, and couldn't help herself as a smile spread its way across her lips once more. She thought about their conversation, remembering just how understanding he had been when she decided to lay herself bare before him, exposing to him every little thing that had gone wrong in her life after she entered the wizarding world.

:

"**_Hello, Hermione, I'm sorry to hear that you had such a bad day. My name is Tom Riddle. If it's not too much, I was wondering if you could tell me how you came to be in possession of my diary?_**" came his response. His writing was impeccable, almost to the point of resembling the finest calligraphy.

"**_I believe you may have accidentally left it in the library back when you were a student at Hogwarts._**" She wrote quickly, eagerly waiting for Tom's reply.

"**_Well, that's rather unfortunate. Lucky for me that I had the forethought to record my memories with something a little more lasting than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this journal to be read. But do tell, Hermione... What exactly happened to make your day so terrible?_**"

"**_I can't tell you without telling you everything that's led up to this and it's sort of a long story,_**" she wrote, "**_I'm certain you don't want to hear about it._**"

"_**Trust me when I say, I have nothing but time, Hermione.**_"

Hermione held her quill over the page, watching his words as they faded away into nothingness. She let out a great big sigh before placing her quill against the parchment and proceeding to write.

She began to recount the last few months to him, starting with her life before coming to Hogwarts and ending with her discovery that Ronald Weasley had been the one behind the theft on her belongings.

"**_Well, you certainly weren't lying when you said that it was quite a long story. But I'm happy you decided to share it with me anyway,_**" came Tom's reply as soon as her ink faded from the page. "**_Also, I would like to add, that I could be your friend, if you like._**"

"_**You would?**_" she wrote in disbelief. "**_Are you sure? I don't want to get my hopes up and then you change your mind at the last minute._**"

"_**I wouldn't have said it, if I didn't mean it.**_" came his response, almost as soon as her ink started to fade away.

She smiled as she read his words.

A friend.

She finally had a friend.

"_**If you weren't a muggleborn, I'm certain you would've been a Slytherin with the amount of cunning you've shown in handling all of the things you've been through.**_" he added in the absence of her response.

"**_Really?" _**she asked.**_ "Because the entire school seems to believe that Slytherin is a house for dark wizards and witches._**" she quickly scribbled back, remembering what Harry told her about Hagrid and what he said about Slytherin house.

_'There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.'_

"**_Well it sounds like Professor Dumbledore has finally been successful in shifting the narrative about Slytherin house to suit him and his prejudice against us._**" Tom responded, the flashing of his words breaking her from her reverie as they appeared on the page, "**_I sincerely hope you haven't been naive enough to fall victim to his propaganda._**"

"**_Of course not,_**" she scrawled back, "**_It would be small minded of me to do so. Especially since Merlin himself was a Slytherin._**"

"**_I see you read Hogwarts: A History,_**" came his swift response. "**_It was one of my favourite books when I first came to Hogwarts._**"

"**_I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who considers that book one of the bests the school has to offer,_**" she told him, quickly adding. "**_Though your journal is definitely coming in at a close second._**"

"**_I'm happy you think so,_**" came his response, "**_You sound like such a kind girl, Hermione. I find myself now feeling inclined to ask you whether or not you would like my assistance in handling some of your earlier struggles?_**"

She stared at the journal confused. How on Earth would _he_ be able to _help_ her? He was in a book for God's sake!

"**_You don't think I can help you, do you?_**" he wrote back after a moment.

"**_No, it's not that._**" she hurriedly wrote her lie.

"**_Don't lie to me Hermione, you're terrible at it._**" he wrote back in response, leaving Hermione floored. How on Earth did he know that she was lying?

"**_How did you know I was lying?_**"

"**_Well, I didn't before, but now I do. Thanks to you._**"

"**_Oh,_**" she responded slowly, taking her time as she tried to think of something else to add.

"_**It's okay,**_" he assured her, "_**I can usually always tell when someone lies to me, it's not just you.**_"

"_**How does all of this work?**_" she asked him, "_**The journal, I mean.**_" she added quickly before the ink could disappear.

"_**I don't know if I should tell you now,**_" he wrote back after a pregnant pause, "_**It's rather a complicated bit of magic.**_"

"**_I'll have you know that I'm in the top of my class!_**" she wrote feeling somewhat offended, "**_All of my Professors tell me that I'm on track to be the brightest witch of the age, especially if I continue studying at the rate that I do._**"

"**_I didn't mean to offend you, Hermione,_**" Tom responded quickly, "**_I was being honest when I told you it's a very complicated bit of magic._**"

Hermione stared at the ink, watching as it sat there on the page for a moment before fading away. She didn't know what to say to him now that she had gone off and made a fool of herself by assuming he was trying to slight her with his comment.

"**_I can teach you, however, how to ward your belongings so that you're not at a disadvantage with your treacherous peers._**" Tom added during her moment of inaction. "**_If you're interested, that is._**"

"**_I'm very interested!_**" she wrote quickly. "**_We wont learn about wards until sixth year._**"

"**_Well, it's lucky you have me then, right?_**" came his response, "**_Though I do need one thing from you, something that you might find a little strange._**"

"**_What's that?_**" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"**_I just need a small drop of your blood,_**" he wrote, "**_Don't be alarmed though, it's to activate some of the magical properties of this journal._**"

"_**A drop of my blood?**_" she asked in confusion. "_**What is my blood supposed to do?**_"

"_**Like I mentioned earlier, it's nothing to be alarmed of. I simply need a drop of your blood to activate some of the magic that has been imbued into this journal. It'll allow me to show you things I otherwise can't if my journal remains in it's current state.**_"

Hermione stared at the page pondering her response, even long after his words had already faded away. He seemed so understanding, he wanted to be her friend, and he said he would help her protect her things. But she couldn't help but wonder why exactly he needed _her_ blood.

"_**Don't you trust me?**_" came his next words when she didn't respond.

"_**Yes! Of course I trust you!**_" she wrote quickly, hoping she hadn't offended him. "_**I just need you to tell me what to do.**_"

Tom's reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell her all he knew.

"_**Grab the athame you use for potions class and make a small incision on your thumb. Then place your thumb against the inner cover of my journal and say the incantation. 'Adiuro me tibi'. Once you've done that, I can help you.**_"

Hermione read the incantation several times, memorizing it before it disappeared. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, before pulling her satchel up from the floor and onto her bed with her. After fishing around inside of her bag, she finally felt the handle of her athame. As soon as her fingers grazed the engraved handle, she pulled it free from her bag, and unsheathed it. Staring nervously at the pointed tip of the blade, she shakily raised it to her left thumb before quickly nicking the center of it. She hissed in pain, and inspected the small cut as blood began to pool on the surface of her skin. Pressing her thumb to the centre of the inner cover of the journal, Hermione slowly repeated the incantation.

"Adiuro me tibi," she said as she held her thumb firmly to the cover.

Suddenly the pages of the diary began to blow as though they had been caught in a high wind, stopping midway through the journal. Mouth hanging open, Hermione watched as a little square had appeared in the centre of the page and seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. Her hands trembled slightly, as she raised the book to press her eye against the little window, and before she knew what was happening, she had begun falling forward; the window abruptly began to widen, and she felt her body leave her bed as she was pitched headfirst through the new opening on the page and into a whirl of color and shadow.

As soon as she felt her feet hit solid ground, she stood, shaking and scared as the blurred shapes around her came suddenly into focus.

She knew immediately where she was, the Hogwarts library.

"Hello Hermione," she heard someone say from behind her. She turned around, trying to find out who it was that was with her and found a boy of about sixteen standing there behind her. She could see that he was very tall and quite handsome, with his pale alabaster skin, jet black hair, and dark hypnotic eyes. On his robe hung a silver prefect's badge that glinted in the light as he approached her. As he came closer, he held his hand out to her, "Nice to properly meet you. I'm Tom."

She swallowed thickly and stared up at him with wide eyes before realizing what he had just said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said dumbly as she reached to take a hold of his hand and was surprised when instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

He smirked at her, and the look made him appear even more dashing to her, "Why don't we get started on learning those wards now." he told her as he turned on his heel and exited the library, Hermione following close behind him.

:

She still couldn't believe just how beautiful he was and the wards he taught her had certainly done the trick. That morning as she showered, while standing under the stream of hot water, she heard the unmistakable sound of one of her roommates screeching like a banshee. Once she went back into their shared bedroom, there standing in the middle of the room was a very bald and hysterically sobbing Lavender Brown. As soon as her eyes landed on Hermione however, she became completely incensed.

"YOU!" she yelled, "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

Hermione remembered looking at her and attempting Tom's smirk.

"No Lavender," she smiled at the bald headed girl. "_You_ did this to yourself."

She didn't even spare her a second thought as she turned and headed to her trunk to pull out a fresh uniform and pair of school robes to dress herself in and head on down to breakfast.

She couldn't wait for her next lesson from Tom.


End file.
